


more than this

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Older Man/Younger Woman, Role Reversal, Soulmates, True Love, Trust, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Cousy RomCom Challenge inspired by the lyrics to "More Than This" by Roxy music. Set in S5.





	more than this

"I suppose you must find this ironic."

He holds out his right hand as she snaps the silver monitoring bracelet on it, avoiding his eyes.

"Simmons wants to monitor your vitals," she explains, again. "if you're going out in the field."

"I guess Simmons didn't think of putting it on herself?" he asks, his tone is very pointed as they stand together in his makeshift quarters. His prosthetic hand is placed on his hip, posing impatiently.

Just moments ago he 'd been resting, after having another attack after they'd returned from the field. Simmons had found out, and this was the solution.

"She thought you might take it better coming from me," she answers him, looking up at him with sympathy, her hand still on his wrist. "It's just temporary, until we find a way to-"

"Daisy, I told you," he interrupts. "It's not temporary. Please, understand me very clearly."

She drops her hand and puts some space between them. He's not seeing clearly, so she has to try for both of them. They've been here before. When she survived the temple, and she had something inside of her that terrified her.

"We've been through so much. There were so many times we both thought the other was going to die, and we didn't," she pleads. "We helped each other."

"This time is different," he says sharply, shaking his head. Now both hands are on his hips, defensive, but she can see right through him.

"You're afraid, but, I'm not going to let you go through this alone. You didn't let me go through it alone."

His hard expression starts to waiver, she can see him wrestling with it, that what she is offering has touched a part of him that is desperate and lonely. It's something she's so familiar with.

"When's the last time you ate something that didn't taste like it's been rationed?" she asks him, picking up the bracelet's box from the bed, as he stares down at the floor.

"I don't need you to mother me. There are other, more important things you should-"

"I can always attempt it alone," she interrupts him, with a light gesture. "Which, should really give you cause for concern, because most of my cooking education took place in a van."

He faces her again, the corner of his mouth turning up a little at the suggestion. A glimmer of something in his eyes.

It's not much, but she'll take it.

  
###

  
"Avocado toast," she says leaning away from him. "I see how this is going to be."

She mashed up the avocados and put the bread in the toaster, but he's seasoning the mash and putting in spices and powder, holding each one of them up for her so she can see what he's doing.

"And poached eggs from the microwave," he tells her, pushing up his shirt sleeves, then opening the fridge and taking a couple of eggs out.

They're alone in the kitchen area, everyone else off to their corners of the base, or wrapping things up after the mission ended poorly.

Leaning forward on her elbows to the table between them, she dips the tip of her finger into the avocado and tastes it. "Mmm. I still want to know the secret ingredient to your grilled cheese."

He keeps working but his eyes flicker up to her briefly, a teasing look in them, and it makes her heart ache for a moment. That they couldn't have spent more time like this.

Why does it have to be so much SHIELD and so little of this? Who decided that for them? Did they decide it?

"Egg, white vinegar, dish, plastic wrap," he announces, waving at the ingredients before them.

She watches as he completes the steps, putting the liquid mixture in each dish, cracking an egg into it and poking the yolk with a fork, before covering the tops in plastic.

"You can finish the toast," he instructs her. "I'll watch these."

His back is to her as he operates the microwave, and she grabs the toasts and knife and starts to spread the mash. And lets herself steal a glance of him, up and down, in a way that she would usually feel guilty for.

The idea of him never being there for her again is unthinkable. And she doesn't want to look at him like he's a memory. Meeting Coulson felt like her life was beginning for the first time. That's how she sees him even years later.

When he's done, he turns around and spoons the eggs out, placing each one on a toast then putting salt and pepper on them, and motions for her to indulge herself.

It's good, of course it's good. Coulson made it. She closes her eyes and tries to not let the emotions get all the way to the surface.

"It's mayonnaise," he says, still chewing, as some of the crumbs from the bread fall out of his mouth and he wipes at them, not attempting to appear so put together for a moment. "The secret ingredient."

"Really?" she asks, wrinkling her nose, still holding her toast for the next bite.

"I didn't grow up with much, either," he tells her, turning his toast to bite it from another angle. "Still, we made do."

She smiles as they eat in silence.

  
###

  
"I'm not leaving you! Ever!"

"I'm a liability!" he says back to her, his voice raised, and she can't remember him ever speaking to her like this before. He recoils at the pain in his shoulder from the gunshot wound, fueled by a heated gesture.

"You told me we never leave anyone behind, so, get used to it!" she says, making her hands into fists.

Her face is hot, and she's so angry with him. Hale and her plans are making her have to choose between leading, and...

She stops herself. It's starting to make sense, why he doesn't let people in. This is like having your heart torn in half. She falls back against the table in the medlab, where everyone vacated when they started to argue again.

"Daisy?" his voice fills with concern and he moves towards her, keeping just enough distance between them to make it hurt more.

"You can't do this. You can't ask me to choose."

"I'm sorry," he tells her, his voice lowered to a whisper. "That's why I didn't want it to be a choice. I tried."

"No, you're living half a life, and making me watch you try to fade away."

"You had the same idea, when you tried to stay in the future," he shrugs, instantly regretting it. "It felt like I had everything. But you were the one thing I couldn't lose."

"This. You think _this_ isn't losing me?" she says, trying not laugh at him with pity, or some kind of mourning of her own she can't explain.

"Daisy, don't," he says, and he looks tired now, his head tipped to one side and his eyes pleading with her.

Her eyes fall on the bracelet on his wrist. He was trying to find a way to cheat it, so that they couldn't figure out that the attacks were becoming more frequent.

She reaches quickly in front of her and pulls his hand to her face, and says the word that unlocks it.

His face falls, as she takes the bracelet off his wrist and lets go of his hand, but he doesn't move it, like he's frozen in place.

"You're free to choose. Whatever you think is best. I'll let the team know."

"Daisy, I do trust you," he says loud enough to make her stop as she nears the door.

Turning back to him over her shoulder, she tries to give him a comforting smile, and he looks stricken, like something inside of him is broken.

She's not sure how to fix this anymore.

  
###

  
"I'm not leaving you behind," she tells him, as she find him inside the rift, where the nightmares are coming from.

It's dark, but he's holding the Gravitonium, although she couldn't see the glow of it until she came up upon him. How she found him is a miracle in and of itself.

"Good," he says with a smirk. "I could use the company."

They agreed, that trust was what mattered the most if they wanted to see this through. She had to trust his faith in her, and he had to trust her faith in him, in order for them both to see clearly.

It had been illuminating, to finally shed some of the things they had taken for granted, that had remained unspoken. Ideas they both still carried about themselves that weren't true, that were patterns that were repeating and would again fatally if they didn't stop.

She has her powers back and he has taken some risks of his own, to get another second chance. Maybe she will destroy the world today. Maybe he will die.

They will just have to find out.

Together.

  
###

  
"That's too much mayonnaise. I thought you said you hated the stuff?"

She hums thinking about how she wants to answer that question. On the one hand, she did like better not knowing the secret ingredient, if she is honest. On the other, using too much of it had the effect of drawing him over to her.

"Is this better?" she asks innocently, using the knife to swipe some of it away back onto the prep plate, managing to get it on the front of her nice sweater, it's not like she owns that many. Mayo is made up of ingredients that will stain.

"A little more," he instructs cooly, coming up behind her and letting his hands rest on her hips. "That's better." He says against her ear after she smoothes it out more evenly.

His mouth moves a little to the right and his lips make contact with her cheek and she's definitely not thinking about food in the moment.

"Do you know how to get this out?" she asks, tucking her chin down so he can see over her shoulder at the casualty.

"I can try," he tells her, backing away as she puts the bread back down on the plate and then wipes her fingers on the towel before turning around to face him.

She lifts her hands and he helps her wiggle the sweater up over her head, temporarily distracted, and then dutifully stands with it besides the sink and puts dish soap on the spot.

"It's one of my favorites," she sighs, as he pats at the circle of grease that seems to remain. She can see out of the window of the cabin, to the little pond on the other side of the drive.

"I know," he tells her, setting the sweater down carefully on the counter and laying it out flat as she washes her hands next to him in the sink. "Is that your way of asking me to take over?"

"I'm afraid your skills set in the kitchen supercedes mine. And, as your leader-"

"Only the kitchen?" he asks with mock offense, walking her backwards until they're at the island again.

"No," she says bossily. "However, we are in the kitchen."

He makes an expression that makes it clear he's accepted the challenge, lifting her at the waist and setting her atop the counter, pushing one of her knees aside so he can fit himself between her legs.

"And we're off the clock," he reminds her, his mouth so close to her own, and she thinks about how they are closer now in so many ways. "Maybe I'm the boss of you?"

His fingers dig into the sides of her hips, squeezing the denim fabric, and yes, she wouldn't mind them switching roles for a change.

But some things have not changed. She can still be impulsive.

And she is eager to get started.


End file.
